1997-03-04 - Shared Moonlight
Everything hurt but that was nothing new. Ever since Bruce Wayne had found his way to Kirigi's dojo in the mountains of North Korea pain had been a constant companion. First it had been the beatings of the other students, members of the mysterious League of Assassins if the rumours were to be believed, then as his skills grew Bruce found himself giving out beatings in the training yard, the pain became the pain of his exertions. Though when /she/ arrived, the pain become something different, the pain of longing, something he had foolishly let himself believe he had moved beyond, but he had to move beyond it. He had his mission and it left room for little else, and most especially not Talia. She didn't speak much of who she was or what her purpose was, but she was dangerous, that much was obvious from every movement and the deferential way the other students treated her. Bruce sighs. He should /not/ be thinking of her. He shifts his sitting position moving from his knees the lotus position as he sits beside the dojo's rock garden taking long slow breaths and willing himself to think of nothing. How much time had passed with Bruce's meditations, one couldn't say. But the sound of rocks shifting and clacking softly underfoot heralds the arrival of another to the rock garden. She meant to be heard, because unless she willed otherwise, she usually moved in silence. Talia settles down beside the koi pond at the edge of the rock garden, kneeling, staring into the waters. A thin cut trickles blood just above her right eyebrow, a bruise already yellowing on her left arm. Still, she moves with grace marking one who had long been trained to such things, odd perhaps given her youth. Her eyes close and she, too, for the moment seeks meditation. Or at least it seems that way. Bruce does not open his eyes as Talia approaches. Her diliberate mistep tells him all he needs to know. It was her. Of course it would be her. There were other clues as well processed and filed away as she drew closer, the sound of her breathing, her scent, so when she sat down beside him he could almost picture her in his mind. "Talia," he says in acknowledgement with an outrush of breath perhaps a little sharp for the meditation. "What do you want?" A slight, sly smile tugs at her lips for a moment before Talia responds. "To clear my thoughts," she says coolly, almost too-innocently. "The same as you." She shifts a bit, settling more comfortably, her arm 'accidentally' brushing his. She regards him for a moment before closing her eyes again. He's handsome, this one. Driven, determined. Focused. Brilliant. She had been more than a casual observer in his training since she had arrived for her own, and her interest in him was beginning to become... apparent. Though for what ends...? "Hnh," comes Bruce's skeptical reply. The brushing of her arm against his makes him open his eyes and turn his head to regard carefully. His eyes fed his brain details, the cut, the bruise, the curve of the sly smile she wore, those other curves concealed by her training clothes which he was steadfastly ignoring... "You're bleeding," he observes then, obvious perhaps, but better to keep his attention above her neck. "And you're not here to clear your head." Also obvious and more dangerous territory than her wound. Bruce chides himself even as the words leave his lips but not one for regrets or second thoughts, he moves on turning to dip the sleeve of his gi in the koi pond to wipe away the blood on Talia's wound. "Maybe not," Talia admits quietly, not moving nor even flinching at Bruce's touch on her wound. "Perhaps dwelling on some thoughts may bring better results," her voice is lilting, teasing. Flirting? Her hand lifts, gently touching his wrist after he finishes wiping the wound. "Thank you," she murmurs. Bruce's arm freezes in place at the touch. He clears his throat after a second and then he pulls back the arm, rubbing the place where her fingers made contact. "You should be fine by the way, I've noticed you heal quickly," he says before he looks up from his wrist to really look at her, not just analyze her. "Why is that? And what sort of results are you after?" "Will," Talia replies in response to his observation on her healing, "Can do much." She could be lying. Or not. Kirigi had much to say on the subject of willpower, after all. She regards him hoodedly, and though she at seventeen is younger than Bruce by two years, for a moment she seems almost predatory. "You seem to dwell," she observes, "And you are far more interesting than most other students here," she admits. "Perhaps I, too, wish to be interesting." Definitely flirting. Bruce continues to study her intently as he listens to her words, aware of the increase in his heart rate and the quickening of his breath, slight as those signs of interest are. Though he keeps his face flat, and almost unreadable, he replies with a dry "Only most?" before he gets to the heart of the matter. "You're definitely interesting if that's the word we're using. However I don't know you, or what you're really after." "Maybe you should get to know me," Talia replies with a faint smirk, rising to her feet. A small scrap of paper flutters to the ground where she knelt as she does, departing the garden soundlessly, though her hips sway lightly, almost purposefully. The note, such that it is, is in code. And it would not take Bruce long to break it: a time, an hour before midnight. A place, one of the more secluded practice rooms at the dojo. That is all. It could be a trap. A way to lure the young man out of bounds where he would surely be punished -- or worse. Or... it could be more dangerous than that. It doesn't take long for Bruce to break the code, and when he has, he considers each of those posibilities comparing them with what he knows or had been able to deduce of Talia. "Definitely the danger," he remarks to the empty garden, then looks down at the note the red of Talia's blood on his sleave just at the edge of his vision. He takes a long slow breath before he stands and heads back into the dojo. He had chores to do, and he needed to do them now if he was to be at the appointed place an hour before midnight. The appointed hour comes. And the practice room is mostly dark, lit only by the moonlight, bright and full, peeking in through the open windows. And empty, it seems, for Talia is not standing anywhere that would be readily apparent to Bruce. No, she is perched in the corner, nearest the door, holding herself up by carefully applied pressure against the walls and ceiling. She waits like a spider in its web for its prey. Bruce arrives on time having taken the time to change his clothing and wash. When he enters the training area and does not see Talia he instictively moves into the darkest corner and goes silent listening for sounds of ambush. That was a mistake. She drops on top of him, lashing out with fists and feet as she falls gracefully, her eyes sparkling with merriment-- not with anger or coldness that might indicate a true trap. No. It seems the young woman wishes to spar, to take a measure of Bruce. Bruce may not have detected her at first but when she falls he almost senses her coming. He can't stop that first kick, but he rolls with the impact so when the fist follows it he's reaching for her arm to yank her into a hip throw. Like Talia, there's no malice in his actions, just smooth responses and only the thinnest hint of a smile. Talia grabs the front of his gi as he grabs her arm to throw her, aiming to throw him off-balance as she flies through the air, tucking and rolling and springing to her feet in a smooth move, her own gi, similar to Bruce's own, though shorter sleeved (and filled out quite differently) disheveled from the tumbling. She drops into a defensive stance, that same slight smile on her lips as earlier. "Hnh," is Bruce's only remark at Talia's counter. It's a compliment. He circles her then, his stance shifting subtly with each step to keep her off balance. Then, when he thinks he sees an opening his muscles tense beneith his gi as he throws a punch high to draw her defenses upwards then drops to sweep her legs out from under her. Talia's arm moves to block the punch, which catches her in the bruise from earlier. Her face flinches, and the sharp stab of pain is enough to distract her for the split second-- and Bruce's legsweep catches her. Still, she's frighteningly well trained though. As she falls, her legs slash out in a scissoring motion to return the favor to Bruce. Bruce's not prepared for the speed that Talia is capable of and so isn't ready for the attack on his legs. He falls, catching himself before he falls uncontrolled onto Talia. He makes a sound that could almost be a laugh at the situation. "Not bad," he greets, not yet moving to continue their fight. She grins at him. "I was thinking much the same of you," she admits, not moving either, content for the moment to stay where she lies. There seems to be no point in maintaining pretenses and so Bruce reaches up to gently brush a cheek his thumb. "Talia..." he begins. "I have a purpose a mission, it doesn't leave me with space in my life for ...entanglements, but..." he looks at her, hoping she'd understand the rest. "Entanglements..." Talia muses, reaching up to lightly run her fingertips through his hair. "A strange way to put things. Like ivy, I imagine this, wrapping around your purpose. Your mission. Tiny tendrils sinking into the cracks..." she smiles, amused. "Do you think the tree has much say in where ivy grows?" "No, I am just saying, if we do what you intend, there may come a time where my purpose has to come first," Bruce explaines even as he allows himself to draw closer to Talia. "But, if you accept that then, tonight, and other times... we can." It was not his most eloquent speech but the closeness made it hard to form words. A soft laugh bubbles up from Talia's lips. "/My/ intentions?" Her green eyes flash with amusement even as he draws closer. "I am not blind, mm? I see how you've regarded me. How you do even now..." and her fingertips trail from his hair to his cheek. And she grins. "Not that I am complaining." She muses for a moment. "I have... similar restrictions," she admits. "Though..." and she leans up and lightly kisses his lips, chastely but behind it, a desire for more. "I would not mind forgetting those for a time. With you." Bruce hesitates after that kiss, the conflict between duty and indulgence plain in his eyes. No. He had made his descision when he came here. He leans forward and presses a hot needful kiss to Talia's lips expressing his desires more eloquently than he could with words. Talia seems almost, for a moment, surprised. But her arms snake around his neck, and surprise gives way to passion. Graceful in battle, perhaps, but that only matters so much when this is a new dance to them both. But, as in many things, enthusiasm makes up for a lack of experience, they are both quite so. Though afterwards, Talia seems contented to curl up, uncaring that they are both on the practice room's floor, resting her head on Bruce's chest. Bruce seems equally unconcerned about discovery laying beside Talia idly toying with a few stray locks of her hair. "So, what now?" he asks her quietly entirely uncertain what one says in these situations. "We sleep," Talia says after a moment of consideration. "Then we wake, and train. And this..." her fingers trace his chest, "whenever it does not interfere with training." She hmms. "And if not this? Perhaps just... /this/. With each other. I think I can enjoy being in your arms. Perhaps we will even find a way to share our missions. Our duties. With each other." She shrugs. "Or perhaps not." She kisses his cheek. Bruce nods, smiling when Talia kisses his cheek. "I can live with that," he says before he kisses her back, on the lips if chastely. "And what is your mission," he asks as he rolls away from her to stand and search for their scattered clothing. "Right now?" Talia rises as Bruce does, lightly grabbing her gi and slipping it on. "To train, to be the best I am capable of, and then more. To serve my father." She ties it shut, long bare legs still visible beneath it. "And you?" Bruce pulls up his pants and ties them off. "Train, be the best I'm capable of, avenge my parents," he says in an echo of her own answer despite the serious tone he takes when discussing his mission. "Who is your father?" he asks,. "Vengeance?" Talia's brow lifts, though she doesn't seem put off by the concept. "Laudable," she nods. She regards him in silence. "My father is Ras Ah Ghul." And with that, she lifts her gi's pants, letting them fold over her arm, and begins moving towards the door. "There is a spar at sunrise. I will see you then..." and she tosses him a smile and a glance over her shoulder as she slips silently out the door on bare feet. "Not vengeance, justice-" Bruce begins to counter but then she answers his question and falls silent, staring. "Ra's al Ghul..." he watches her go and lets out a long slow breath before he picks up his gi and leaves. What had he done? Category:Historical Log